


The Witch's Curse

by ladylace616



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beware Woods Witch, Curse Breaking, Curses, Dead Cersei Lannister, Dead Jaime Lannister, Espionage, F/M, Jon Arryn Lives, Kidnapping, Missing Persons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post War with the Lannisters, Robert Baratheon Lives, Sons and Daughters of the North, Starks fostered all over the place, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylace616/pseuds/ladylace616
Summary: (AU) Tired of her parent's constant requests to nail down a betrothal, the rebellious teenager Arya Stark decides to go looking for trouble one day. She learned about a woods witch near the Wall named Ulella. The witch could read your fortune and tell you what it is that you need to know. The price was different for everybody, though. Arya was no coward. She'd pay any price to go on an adventure and find the witch. Will she live to regret her decision?
Relationships: Cley Cerwyn/Arya Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Jon Snow, Sansa Stark/Willas Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy/Jorelle Mormont, Wynafryd Manderly/Robb Stark
Kudos: 3





	The Witch's Curse

Arya Stark has always been a headstrong young woman. Four years living down south at High Garden had taught her impatience and the most direct route to her goals. Under Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, she and her sister both received an impeccable education.

Sansa, her older sister, had been promised to the heir of High Garden during war times. Although Sansa had always dreamed of a gallant knight for a husband, she was quite satisfied by her soft spoken and romantic older husband. Their second born Harlan was a testament to their love. 

Sansa’s daughter, the eldest, was a lovely little cherub of a girl. Jocelyn had her father’s expressive green eyes and her mother’s fair northern skin and Tully red hair. She would grow to be a great beauty such as her mother. Arya was close to her niece and nephew. 

Arya had been shipped south against her will when Sansa was betrothed. Although she resisted like she rebel she was, Olenna and Sansa eventually molded her into a passing lady. She began to see the benefit in womanly gains, and started to act more courtly so as to collect more intelligence. 

It was endeavors such as these that Olenna encouraged. She also encouraged Arya’s troubling tendency to roam the city streets, messy and unkempt like a boy. She learned much in her covert operations, so it was a win-win. 

In public, she was Ned Stark’s esteemed daughter in dresses who suffered to have her hair done elaborately. But in secret, she roamed the city streets like a boy street urchin and brought back secrets to her sister’s in-laws. 

That all stopped when Arya returned to the North. She and Sansa and her children came back to Winterfell for Jon and Myrcella’s wedding. 

Myrcella had been fostered at Winterfell ever since she was ten, amid the turmoil of the war with the Lannisters. Myrcella had been spared and given to Ned Stark’s bastard for safe keeping. Catelyn had been keeping her as a ward and grooming her to be Jon’s bride. Ned was gifting him a castle in the newly developed lands in the Gift.

Arya was thrilled to see her mother and father again. She’d be seeing her brothers again, too, excepting Rickon. He was being fostered away in the Riverlands with her Uncle Edmure. 

Robb was deeply in love with his spitfire wife, Wynafryd of House Manderly. Arya liked the older woman and considered her quite sharp. She had produced two sons for Robb, Jon Stark and young Rodrick Stark. 

When Arya arrived at Winterfell, she was happy to see how radiant Wynafryd looked. Her belly was swollen with child yet again, and Robb wrapped his arm around her. Wynafryd smiled and unconsciously rested her hands over her belly, protecting the baby within. It wasn’t something that Arya wanted, but she was glad that her brother was happy.

Speaking of brothers…

“Arya!”

Arya looked over her shoulder, mounted on her horse. She was just about to go for an afternoon ride when she heard the horns being blown, signaling visitors were approaching. She paid it no mind, figuring her father or Robb would be dealing with the guest. Instead, she was surprised to hear a familiar voice.

“Oh, Bran!” she cried in real excitement. He was standing on the other side of the courtyard, and Arya directed her horse towards him. “I didn’t know you’d be coming so soon,” she said.

“All the sooner to spend more time with my beautiful sisters,” he replied. Towering over her now, he wrapped her up in a tight hug when she dismounted from her horse. 

Arya pulled back and suffered Bran to ruffle her hair affectionately. She gave him a quick jab in the ribs like she would have done years ago, and Bran guffawed and backed away from her. 

“How unladylike! I thought you might be a real lady now, but I should have known better,” he joked with her. “You’re still the same Arya.”.

“Don’t you forget it,” Arya grinned. It was true. The North was the same as always, and she was the one who had changed. 

In her time in the south, she blossomed into a young woman. Her brother was almost a man grown himself. He had been sent to foster with the Umbers when he was nine, and she had not seen him since then. This was truly a happy occasion, but it was no wonder they hardly recognized each other.

Arya had learned to embrace her feminine wiles under Olenna’s leadership. Her sharp wit and intellect were encouraged. She was most unwomanly in her ways of thinking, and didn’t like for people to challenge her. She thought she always knew better than others, trained to think like a spy and see moves ahead of others. It was this kind of arrogant thinking which would be her undoing eventually, no doubt.

In the days leading up to Jon’s wedding, she enjoyed her time with her family. Her father was very happy with all his grandchildren converging in one place. It was Ned and Catelyn’s first time to meet their grandson Harlan, who was still just a baby and under a year old.

Harlan favored his father’s coloring. He had sandy hair and Sansa’s bright blue eyes. Catelyn was instantly in love and could hardly be parted from the child.

Indeed, as Catelyn readied Myrcella for the ceremony and helped Sansa to weave her Lannister red cloak, the baby was constantly on her hip. She was a little terse with the blonde Lannister, but nothing as bad as Arya had seen her treat Jon. 

Nevertheless, Myrcella pretended not to notice Catelyn’s cool attitude towards her. She was truly a polite little princess, albeit a disgraced one. Myrcella was optimistic about marrying Jon. She had been conditioned to accept the match from a young age. 

She considered herself lucky, really. Jon was very handsome and turned many heads. He was a skilled swordsman and quite healthy, although a bit brooding. He was older than her but not so much as to make her feel uncomfortable. He was a good looking young man. He would treat her fairly and decent, she was sure of it. His lord father Ned would not have raised a rude or ill tempered son like the family she’d experienced growing up.

Myrcella missed that her mother and father wouldn’t be there for the ceremony. Cersei and Jaime were dead, and the man she’d believed was her father for many years had washed his hands of her when he stripped her of his name and sent her north. 

She was an orphan in the North, and only tolerated because of her disarmingly sweet disposition. It almost made people forget her parentage. Almost.

Myrcella knew that Jon was pleased to be leaving Winterfell. She was anxious yet excited herself to become the Lady of a keep finally. 

Their stead was to be called Winter’s Gate after their new surname. Jon was abandoning the bastard name Snow. After their wedding, they were adopting a new name and coat of arms under the name Winters. His coat of arms was a white wolf on a black background with red eyes. 

As Jon draped his cloak over Myrcella’s shoulders, Arya was glad for her own freedom. She was a year older than Myrcella and had mercifully evaded a betrothal over the years. Even though she had become a woman and was eligible for marriage, she was her father’s favorite child. That came with certain perks that she was happy to exploit. She had no plans of being forced to marry any time soon.

Lady Catelyn all but kicked out the newly wed couple. It was just as well, because they were eager to be off. All the same, Arya was enraged at her mother for making Jon leave so soon after she’d just got there.

Arya resolved to go with her brother to his new stead. “I’ll keep Myrcella company,” she volunteered. Arya had been away in the south when Myrcella arrived at Winterfell, and this was their first opportunity to really get to know each other.

Jon, as always, indulged Arya’s unwomanly interests. When women of Bear Island visited his stead, Arya trained in the yard with them and learned more about swordplay. 

It was at this time that Jon gifted her with a sword, whom she dubbed her very own Needle. A man off a boat named Jaqhen came through the area, and Jon hired him to be Arya’s trainer. 

A year passed in this way, with Arya at Winter’s Gate, indulging herself. Sansa and her children eventually returned south. Wynafryd gave birth to a girl that they named Leona Stark. Catelyn wrote that she had Robb’s Tully red hair, unlike their boys, whom were dark headed like their mother.

Catelyn also wrote to Arya about her possible betrothal. She hinted that she wished to arrange a riverlord husband for her. Arya shuddered at the thought; leaving the North. Now that she was home and more importantly spending so much time with Jon and her new found freedom, she didn’t want to be shipped off again.

Her father was obliged to help her, but he also suggested marriage. He thought he was being tactful by suggesting sons of Northern houses, at least. “You might consider Horace Umber or Eddard Karstark. Any of the Umber boys,” he wrote.

Arya was frustrated, but she decided to at least try and placate her parents. Winter’s Gate was not far from Last Hearth. It would be a visit of both business and pleasure, to see her younger brother Bran. 

Bran was a good friend of the boys Horace and Tobin, who were near their age. Her brother wouldn’t point her wrong. He might have a suggestion as to who she might choose. If anyone, she wasn’t sure she was even going to do as her parents asked. She kept thinking there was something more for her out there, she just wasn’t sure what that might be yet.

Last Hearth was larger than Winter’s Gate, which was a newer stead while this one was ancient. It embodied the North with it’s desolateness, bears growling in the night beyond the walls. Arya had a warm reception of a feast when she arrived with Nymeria.

Horace was only two years older than herself, but he behaved with a machismo that suggested he was much more experienced. He was boastful, and she found that unappealing. He was dark haired and swarthy, covered in hair. His younger brother, Tobin, however was more mild in temperament. He was not meek per se, yet she sensed more of a kindred spirit in him.

Arya was not impressed with either of them. Her time with Olenna had taught her to have high expectations for herself. Her husband was a political match, and she had to make the better of it. Horace and Tobin were second and third born sons, not even heirs to their father’s stead.

She enjoyed herself, nonetheless. The Umbers had an old spinster that told tales at their castle just like Old Nan at Winterfell. After the feast, she entertained the younger set by spinning horrific tales which were always some of Bran’s favorites.

He could tell that Arya was particularly enraptured by one story the old woman told. There was a woods witch nearby named Ulella. She could read your fortune for a price, exacting different goods or other traits she deemed worthy of her services. It was different price for everyone who crossed paths with her.

As Arya was about to learn. The next day, she cajoled her brother and a few other riders out into the woods. She was determined to find the house of this witch and have her fortune told. Bran and the others went along with it, thinking it a great joke and that they might prank his sister.

Little did they know how real the witch Ulella would turn out to be.

Bran was riding nearby Arya when she suddenly disappeared. One moment he had been talking to her, and the next she was gone. Her horse nor her were anywhere in sight.

What they could not know is that Arya had passed through a magical opening in the witch’s fortress. She knew exactly where Arya would enter her lair and arranged to make it easier for the ill fated girl.

Ulella was blind, but could also see all. Arya was disgusted at her first sighting of the witch. The witch was old and wizened, her back crooked in age. A soiled rag was wrapped loosely over her eyes, and the little teeth she had in her ageless mouth were yellow and rotted.

The witch was standing in front of a great wall of magical ingredients. Though she had no sight, her old and weather spotted hands did not waver as she selected vials from the shelves.

“You’ve come to have your fortune read, Lady Stark,” the old witch croaked, rather than asked. She already knew what mysteries preyed on the troubled girl’s mind.

“Yes,” Arya answered and came further into the witch’s hut. The witch turned more quickly than Arya anticipated and was faster than she thought. In a moment, she had seized Arya’s wrist and lifted the young girl’s hand to her face.

Before Arya could recoil, Ulella licked the palm of Arya’s hand, salivating all over it. Arya did withdraw then in disgust, and Ulella cackled like the wicked witch she was.

“You taste so fresh, so willful, young one!!” she said with mirth. She cackled again and went to the wall again, plucking more ingredients from the wall.

“So what of it, witch? What’s my fortune? What do you see in my future?” Arya anxiously asked the witch.

“You are so arrogant and impatient, young Eddard Stark’s daughter. It does not serve you to be so willful. You must listen to your parent’s wishes. It is your duty as a daughter to do as you are told. Respect your elders,” the witch counselled the headstrong youth.

Arya frowned. “I’ll respect my elders when they’ve earned it, and not a minute before,” Arya cockily said. She was growing impatient with the witch, ready to hear what adventures might still lay in her future.

She was surprised when the witch dumped some ingredients into her mortar and pestle, then added the powder to a small vial. When she added the powder to the vial, it glowed purple in the vial and Arya was astounded by its bright color.

The witch held it out to Arya.

“Drink from this, child, and you will know what you came here to find out,” she cryptically said.

Arya was no coward. The liquid was bright, but it tasted sweet on her tongue when she bravely downed the whole vial at once.

She waited, for some deep knowledge to hit her suddenly, but nothing came.

She had just long enough to turn a shrewd eye on the old witch. “If you’re trying to deceive me-” Arya started to say, but could no longer speak.

Arya suddenly lost consciousness and slid bonelessly to the floor.

“You realized it a little too late, sweet one,” the witch cackled.

  
  


**************

  
  


Nymeria was in a panic. She had been riding near her owner when she disappeared. She could not find her, no matter how hard she tried.

That is, until, suddenly she could feel her. She was sharing her head with her master. Arya’s body might be nowhere to be found, but Nymeria had found her.

Arya’s spirit was trapped inside her direwolf.


End file.
